The Bates Motel has some competition

The headline enticed adventuresome vacation planners: “Lizzie Borden house open for overnights.”

But could anyone sleep nightmare-free in the house where Lizzie Borden spent her last days after acquittal and release from prison? Or would anyone prefer spending a night in the house where Lizzie’s parents were slain in 1892?

Lizzie Borden became famous when accused of murdering her father and stepmother with an ax. The two homes in which she lived are operating as bed-and-breakfast businesses by owners who have retained some of Lizzie’s furnishings.

The Massachusetts home in which Lizzie was accused of wielding her ax is now The Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast Museum, and Maplecroft is the home where she lived her last days with her sister.

Spending the night in creepy hotels is fun to some people but definitely not all. Some years ago, we stayed at Estes Park, Colorado, in the hotel set location for the scary movie “The Shining” starring Jack Nicholson.

The old hotel’s darkened hallways had wood floors that seemed to moan, groan and creak without anyone stepping on them. At least I hoped nobody was stepping on them when I awoke from my nightmare in which Jack, with his evil grin, was running toward our room, as he did in the film, sneering, “Here’s Johnny!” Our room had no door in my dream. Jack was crossing its threshold … I punched my husband — he had to protect me.

“You sleep through an earthquake and then you wake me up for a dream,” he grumbled and went back to sleep.

He never forgave me for sleeping through an Okinawa earthquake that rattled windows and set sliding closet doors banging back and forth against the walls.

I stayed awake most of the night, trying to understand the relevance of earthquake noise to a crazed, rampaging Jack Nicholson. And I wondered whatever happened to our “for better or for worse” vows. So I was a sound sleeper; so what?

The Estes Park hotel was only one of many creepy places we’ve encountered. Because of some confusion between the Copley Plaza and Copley Square hotels in Boston, we ended up in the older of two Copleys with our cabbie asking to see our reservation confirmations because “nobody stays there.” The two-bedroom suite we shared with friends was so dingy, shabby and just plain worn that it was funny. So we stayed despite the suspicious stains on the lampshade, wall and ceiling that looked like crime scene blood spatters.

We had a party to share our experience with fellow conventioneers. We had to sneak ice in buckets from another hotel. Our Copley lacked amenities but served the best breakfasts anywhere.

The worst was Green Lantern Motel somewhere in Texas. My mother carried our toddler son around in her arms because she didn’t want him to touch the anything, not even the floor. She wanted to secure the door with furniture pushed in front.